


Broken Destinies

by Megchad22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Broken saviors, Child Abuse, Dark, Gen, Implied Incest, Implied Underage, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, changing the world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:48:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megchad22/pseuds/Megchad22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were abused, broken and then told they were to save the world. Instead they would remake it. Make others undertand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Destinies

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously not mine, the Sorting song came from Harry Potter and the Sorcers Stone

_Okay this is a rewrite of Hogwarts four. I am endeavoring to move through the years but don’t expect a lot of updating. This took me nearly a year to write._

With one last grunt and a bruising blow Vernon Dursley straightened from the wheezing body of his eleven year old nephew. 

“Remember boy” the heavy set man snarled, “this is your fault. If you were normal this wouldn’t happen.” With that he picked up the waif of a child and threw him into the narrow crawl space under the stairs, barely big enough to be called a cupboard let alone the bedroom it had been for nearly all of the first ten years of young Harry Potter’s life. 

Harry curled into a small ball, trying to minimize movement, not even noticing the difference between the cupboard he knew so well and the small bedroom he had spent the last few months in. He clamped his lips shut to keep the small whimpers inside. He knew that if he made a sound that Aunt Petunia would get irritated and she was even worse than Uncle Vernon. Harry couldn’t wait until the next day when he would leave for a very exclusive boarding school, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

Though he had never been to Hogwarts before, and had no idea what to expect, he couldn’t wait to leave Privet Drive. Harry reasoned that no matter what happened to him at this new school it would be better than staying here and wishing for hell every day of his life. 

**BREAK**

Standing alone in the bustling King’s Cross train station Harry felt a jolt of panic slam into him. He had no way of finding the train to the school, didn’t know how to get to Diagon Ally from here and there was no way he was letting Hedwig out to send a letter to Hagrid without being sure that she would be able to return to him. The untrained wizard had quickly become attached to the white owl that had shown him the most affection that he had ever known and he didn’t want to risk losing her. 

As he stood feeling helpless looking between platforms nine and ten he heard a woman’s voice over the din, “packed with Muggles, of course” the rest was unintelligible but he quickly spotted the speaker in a sea of red heads not far away. The middle aged woman with bright red hair was surrounded by five children, clearly hers. The oldest was a lanky red headed teen with glasses looking nervously at two younger boys, twins. There was a young girl holding the mother’s hand and a boy about his age who stuck out because of his pale countenance and dark clothing. Except for youngest boy the entire crowd was dressed in brightly colored, mismatched and patched clothes; they were also tanned and freckled having clearly spent a great deal of time outside. 

Harry approached the group carefully, his own bruises a reminder of how even those adults he should trust were dangerous. The woman noticed his approach and took a second to take in his baggy clothes, his trunk and owl, and the apprehensive look on his face. She smiled kindly at the clearly worried child, but waited for him to speak. 

“Excuse me ma’am, I was just wondering…” He trailed off not sure how to continue, remembering the disbelief of the station guard. 

“How to get to platform 9 and ¾, dear?” At his hesitant look and jerky nod she smiled again, “It’s perfectly alright, no need to feel foolish. All you need to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Remember don’t stop or hesitate in any way. Are your parents with you, child?” 

“No, Ma’am.” 

“Such a polite boy, well here Percy can go first and show you how.” Inwardly she was frowning at the fact that an eleven year old boy was wandering the platform all by himself. The oldest boy stepped forward and pushed his cart straight at the barrier without stopping. 

While they were waiting one of the twins leaned over, “Don’t worry about mum helping you she does this every year, there’s always a few muggleborns that aren’t told how to get onto the platform.” 

In short order the twins had been sent through and it was his turn. He took a bracing breath and started toward the barrier, it took all of his courage not to close his eyes going through even though he knew that would be inviting disaster. Going from the somewhat drab, darkly colored station of Kings Cross to the blindingly bright scarlet engine and eye watering shades of clothing in the crowd surrounding him caught his breath in surprise. 

With a little help from the red headed twins he was safely ensconced in a compartment midway up the train, able to watch the crowds of people move below. He watched with interest as the blonde from the robe shop boarded the train with all the arrogance of a spoiled prince but somehow looking more like a prisoner flanked by two large dim looking boys. The kindly redhead and her family were not far from where he was sitting as she smoothed the clothes of her youngest son and gave the twins last minute instructions. He noticed that the twins, for all their teasing, would shoot worried looks at the youngest boy whenever their mother’s back was turned. The boy, in turn, tuned them out. Just underneath his window he could hear girl about his age pass by nervously stuttering out spells to herself, and farther up the train a disheveled looking boy was being berated by an old woman who may have been his grandmother. 

Harry watched as the platform cleared and people board the train, just before the train left the young red headed boy, Ron, entered his compartment followed closely by the Twins. 

“Do you mind if Ron shares a compartment with you?” the Twin on the right asked while Ron huffed a slightly impatient breath. 

“I don’t mind.” Harry said quietly, watching the slight discomfort Ron showed when his brothers entered his personal space; the suppressed flinch when the twin on the left brushed past him and the attentive way the twins watched him and helped him get settled in before announcing that they were going to see their friend Lee’s tarantula two compartments down on the left. It didn’t take a genius to figure out something was wrong. 

“Sorry for them, they’ve been a little over protective lately.” Ron looked ill for a moment, like he was dreading the questions about why they would be so protective of him, and then charged on. “I’m Ron Weasley” 

“I’m Harry Potter” 

A flicker of surprise, a quicksilver slice of excitement, and genuine awe cut through the cloud of discomfort and apathy surrounding Ron, “Really, do you have the Scar?” he blurted out before he could help himself, his face reddened in embarrassment. 

“Uh… yeah” he quickly flicked the fringe of his hair up showing the scar that was famous in the magical world. He was still unused to being seen as an object admiration rather than scorn. 

As he let his the compartment opened and the brown haired girl who had passed below his window entered. Her hair was wild and choppy, even three inches long it had raggedy ends and was greasily tangled. She was wearing baggy jeans and a baggy long sleeve shirt, giving her even more of a boyish appearance. Her brown eyes were almost completely blank, though Harry thought he could see the faintest hint of curiosity’s spark hidden in her gaze. To Harry she looked familiar, though he couldn’t place where he had seen her before. She seemed disappointed looking into compartment. 

“I-I-I’m Sor-r-rry. I-I had hop-p-ped to f-f-f-find an empt-t-ty compar-par-partment. ” She squeaked and whirled around, pressing herself against one of the doors when Percy, the oldest of Ron’s brothers on the train passed her into the compartment. He took a moment to check on Ron, to Ron’s slightly shown irritation before sweeping back out of the compartment. 

He paused to look down at the trembling girl, surprised at her hair style and choice of clothing “I don’t think you’ll find any empty compartments at this time, Miss…?” 

“H-H-Herm-m-mione G-Gr-Grange-ge-ger, sssir” 

He blinked and took a moment to decipher her words, “There’s no need to call me sir, Miss Granger. My name is Percy Weasley, I’m the Gryffindor 5  th Year Prefect, and you can come to me with anything you need.” Her trembling didn’t stop and after another moment he said, “Why don’t you go sit down” he gestured at the seats in the compartments. Hermione kept her head lowered and sat, still shaking, obediently. Percy frowned again but didn’t say anything as he left to continue his rounds. 

Harry mean while had started in surprise when he heard the girls name; Hermione Granger’s name was nearly as well known in muggle society as his seemed to be in magical society. Up until two years ago the Granger family had been a normal family consisting of a well respected dentist father, a well known real estate agent mother, and little Hermione, a near genius girl who had been skipped ahead several grades. Then two years ago screaming had neighbors calling the police to their modestly well off residence. What they found was like out of a nightmare. Hermione was backed into the corner of the master bedroom, naked except for a single sheet wrapped around her. She was staring at the master bed where the bloody remains of her father were still being hacked up by her mother, who was screaming obscenities at her husband’s remains. 

It had taken nearly a month to sort out just what had happened. Jeanette Granger had come home from another of her trips, traveling was a regular occurrence with her job, to find her husband William having sex with their nine year old daughter. The scene shocked her still for long enough stop and hear what he was saying to her little girl. While the exact words had never been repeated by either of the living witnesses the general idea was that this wasn’t the first time and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. His actions and words had enraged the mother to the point where she shrieked and proceeded to beat her husband into unconsciousness using a lamp. She then told her daughter to get off the bed and left the room to get a knife; she came back and hacked her husband into tiny pieces while Hermione looked on, traumatized. 

The story had been discussed at his school as a lesson to tell a teacher, though they had sanitized it a great deal. His aunt Petunia’s gossip buddies had not, he remembered the story mostly because he could remember his aunt cooing in sympathy for the family, just hours before she hit him with a heated frying pan. Though no one had ever been able to say what had happened to Hermione, Jeanette’s fate was splashed across any news source that wanted to be sold. She refused a deal to plead guilty to a charge of voluntary manslaughter, a charge that would get her about ten years maximum, against the advice of her lawyer. She instead was convicted of First Degree murder, and taking into account the particularly vicious nature of her crime and the fact that her daughter had witnessed the entire thing the judge gave her Life without Parole. Opinions had flown rampant for nearly six months after the verdict and sentence were given. Some thought she should have been found innocent, some thought she should have gotten death; through it all everyone had all but forgotten about the traumatized child still out there living with the horror they were gossiping about over tea. 

Harry watched with jaded eyes as Hermione Granger curled into herself in one corner, absently noticing that the distraction from his scar was enough to push Ron back into the haze that surrounded him as the compartment fell into silence, watching just long enough to see that she wasn’t going to speak. He turned back toward the window watching the country side flash past only to turn back toward the door when the compartment opened again. This time it was the blonde boy from the robe shop and the two hulking children on either side that resembled guards. Hermione jumped and pressed farther into the seat while Ron looked at them dispassionately. Harry tensed, hating himself for feeling as jumpy as Hermione looked. 

“Well, well, well what do we have here boys?” the blondes eyes sparked maliciously as he took in the compartment then dismissed Harry and Hermione as unimportant, “A Weasley in _my_ compartment, and so far from your _filthy_ family.” Barely a breath and Ron went from placid to enraged. He launched form the seat to the background sound of Hermione’s thin, startled wail at the blonde only to be blocked by the two behemoth boys who move in front of blonde. His feet struck Harry twice in the arm as he struggled causing the boy to curl in on himself instinctively. There were several minutes of confused fighting before the fight went out of Ron just as quickly as it came to him and he sat down just as Percy rushed into the compartment, drawn by the still keening Hermione. 

“What is going on here?” Percy shouted over Hermione, getting her attention enough that she calmed down. He took in the scene; one boy hunched over protecting his middle, his brother sitting on the seat looking disinterested, the girl Hermione still shaking and white, two large boys with visible injuries, and a blonde boy standing back with satisfaction in his eyes. 

“Do I need to get the head boy?” Percy asked in a stern voice. 

“No, Percy, everything is fine” Ron said in a dull monotone. 

“What about you Miss Granger, are you okay?” 

“I-I-I-I am f-f-f-fine, j-j-just-t-t-t-t st-st-st artled” 

“Very well, you” Percy gestured at the Blonde, “should sit down, there are no more empty compartments. You two” he gestured at the hulking boys, “will be riding this ride with the prefects, so you don’t cause any more trouble, come with me.” The three left as the blonde sat down with the refined air of a gentleman. 

“Fucking useless brutes,” he muttered under his breath, “worthless except as cannon fodder and target practice.” Before he lapsed into a silence that would last the rest of the ride; even the passing of the food trolley didn’t break the lack of noise in the compartment. Hermione continued to shake and quiver, Harry silently berated himself for his earlier weakness, Ron tried to lose himself in the countryside, and the unnamed blonde stared at them in a silent huff. These four could not be any more separated and be in the same room, and yet if you were to look at the room magically you would see over the course of hours the auras of the four children crept together, intertwining and creating a fragile magical connection. These fates would be tied together, though what that fate was is still unknown. 

**_Break_**

Once the train had stopped several hours later the four separated promptly. Ron was guided along by his brothers, the twins still giving him concerned looks and trying buffer him from the other students to their friends’ surprise. Hermione skittered to one side of the mass of students, head down moving quickly and quietly. The blonde rejoined his bodyguards at the prefects’ compartment, scowling at them and striding away. Harry moved silently as well his thoughts caught up in a whirl of ‘I don’t belong here’. 

By the time Hagrid had called all the first years together and led them down the path to the lake Harry had half convinced himself that he would be sent away and was on the verge of a panic attack. He shared a boat with three other boys that he didn’t know and followed the crowd to a well lit castle, up the long winding path to the front door and through the imposing double doors, all the while sure he would be told this was all a mistake. 

Hagrid handed them over to a strict looking professor, a middle aged woman with dark hair streaked with grey up in a severe knot on the back of her head. She was dressed in emerald colored robes with a black pointed hat sitting straight on top of her head. Through her square glasses he could feel her hazel eyes look over the group of eleven year olds; her disappointment, probably in him personally, was almost palpable to Harry as she spoke. 

“My name is Professor McGonagall; I am the deputy headmistress and transfiguration mistress here at Hogwarts.” Her sharp, no nonsense voice rang out, silencing the crowd of students “Once all the other students are settled you will be sorted into your house; this house will be like your family here at school. You will take your classes, eat your meals and find your dearest friends there. Good behavior will earn your house points toward winning the house cup, bad behavior will result in the loss of points and detention. The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin; if you will follow me to a room where you may make yourself presentable while you wait.” Her eyes flicked over the crowd again and Harry nearly flinched when he felt the force of her disappointment, he resisted the urge to cower and berated himself for his weakness. The professor led them to a small room where they could hear the chatter of the other students through the still closed door. Professor McGonagall turned to them, “wait here, I will come to collect you when it is time.” 

Silence descended on the room of nearly thirty children, before whispers broke out. Some students compared spells and stories. Harry could just barely hear Hermione Granger’s stuttered whisper as she recited what sounded like a multiplication table to herself. The blonde was alternately berating the two hulking masses on either side of him and making snide remarks about his future classmates. Ron Weasley stood close to a wall his blank eyes staring into space, projecting an aura of disinterest. Out of the corner of Harry’s eye he saw Ron reach up and eat something as soon as the professor left the room. The red haired boy’s eyes glazed over slightly and the tense set of his muscles relaxed some. 

After a brief scare with the pearly white ghosts that Harry never knew existed, the children were herded into the large Great Hall for sorting into their houses. Clouds rolled across the ceiling over hundreds of floating candles, the arches and stonework just visible through the illusion. Four long tables each in their own colors ran the length of the hall; these tables held children, presumably the students. First the table draped in red, then yellow, followed by blue, and then finally green. Perpendicular to the student’s tables on a large platform was a single long table draped in royal purple; Harry could see Professor Quirrel sitting along one end. In front of the dais was a battered stool and weather beaten hat. 

When the unsorted students were within a few meters of the hat Professor McGonagall held out a hand stopping them. The battered headwear seemed to shiver for a moment before a seam ripped along the brim forming a mouth. In an exhausted scratchy ‘voice’ that echoed eerily off the flagstone it sang: 

__Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folks use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap! 

There was polite applause to which the very tip of its pointed hat dipped down like it was bowing. Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a list in her hands. 

“Abbott, Hannah” she called and one of the anxious students detached herself from the crowd and sat nervously under the hat. It sat for only a few seconds before calling out ‘ **HUFFLEPUFF** ’ **.** She practically skipped over to the table of black and yellow. 

Then the next to be called was “Bones, Susan” who followed her friend into the badger’s house. Terry Boot became the first Ravenclaw as his tie turned blue, and then Lavender Brown became the first to join the red and gold Gryffindor table. Millicent Bulstrode became the first Slytherin. Names flashed by Harry as he descended into a quiet panic; it was just as Hermione Granger was called that Harry forced his feelings back down. The hat dropped over the skittish girl’s eyes and for the first time something changed in the hat’s demeanor. It was very subtle but something about her sorting was different. 

When the hat called out the House it seemed even weary than before, hurting in some indefinable way. ‘ **RAVENCLAW** ’ it called. The same polite clapping sounded, though there were some comments about her hair, her clothes or her past that floated out. Names continued to fly by; absently he noted that Draco Malfoy, the blonde who had been in their train compartment, had been sorted into Slytherin. 

Then came, “Potter, Harry” and it seemed like everyone in the hall was suddenly leaning forward. 

As the hat settled on his head and covered his eyes Harry felt another spike of repressed panic slice through him. 

“ **I guarantee you won’t be sent away, young one.** ” A voice whispered into his head, “ **Not with the plans that are in the works. Now I am sorry that you will not be sorted normally but as I have already told the other two your destiny is beyond even my brim. Maybe one day you can put me on and I can sort you properly. Onto business I suppose; I greet you Harry James Potter, chosen of the Lions house. By the order of the Founders and Hogwarts itself you will be required to report to the portrait of Godric Gryffindor after curfew this evening where your duties will be explained to you. I bid thee luck in thy endeavors. GRYFFINDOR** ’ The last was shouted so the entire hall could hear it. As he made his way to the red and gold table he couldn’t help but ask himself what was going on. The boy hero barely heard the rest of the sorting save the fact that Ron Weasley was sorted into Hufflepuff. 

**_Dance_**

That night Harry sat tucked out of sight, nervously waiting for the last few stragglers to find their beds. Finally after what felt like a small eternity the common room was empty. He didn’t know why he was following the sorting hat’s instructions except it felt like he had no choice. He approached the still portrait not showing his internal shaking. The portrait, one of four notoriously muggle paintings in the castle, shifted suddenly and silently. It swung open revealing a long blackened corridor. With far more bravado than he felt Harry walked crept down the winding corridor. Finally there was a lighted opening that brought him into a tastefully colored room with a fireplace and four chairs facing each other. The other three chairs were already filled with the three people he had shared a compartment with on the train, none looking particularly happy to be there. The blonde in particular was glaring at anything that moved. 

Hesitantly the Gryffindor sat in the open red and gold chair but did not break the silence. Moments afterward four translucent figures glided into the room; as a gold and red bird appeared with the decrepit sorting hat. One of the figures, a man who practically bounced when he walked, rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Everyone’s here, excellent.” 

“I imagine you all have questions.” One of the women serene despite her severe features, stated without inflection. She held up a hand to forestall any of them from speaking. Not that any of them had even attempted to break their self imposed silence. 

“It is a simple matter, as soon as the four of you stepped on the train you were recognized as our magical and biological heirs. We made an agreement with Fate itself that when something happens to push the world too far away from the path it was set upon our heirs would be called forth to set things to rights. That is you four. As far as Fate is concerned the magical and muggle world should have been combined years ago. However my wayward heir, Tom Riddle, managed to screw everything up. Young Mister Potter was born purely to put a stop to Riddle.” 

The final woman, portly but kind looking smiled soothingly at them. “It won’t have to be all at once, you can take your time but you will also need to bring houses back together. We don’t expect you to do this on your own either. Hogwarts itself will help you whenever needed. Now our heirs we shall give you some time to plan.” She touched Ron’s shoulder and there was a small frown that formed when he didn’t react. The four then exited as easily as they came leaving four traumatized children with even more heaped upon them. 

“I suppose that means that we don’t have any choice” the blonde, Draco Malfoy, spoke with sneer. 

“I guessssss not” Hermione Granger stuttered wringing her hands. Ron still didn’t react, his glazed eyes seeing nothing. 

“What should we do then?” Harry forced himself to ask, 

A cold, cruel smile lit Malfoy’s face with a sinister light, “Oh, we’ll plan alright…and they’ll regret.” 

**IT’S A KILLER SANDWICH**

There was always a staff meeting on the first night of classes. It was a chance to discuss the new first years and their sorting. Plus it was one of the few nights when it was almost guaranteed that trouble makers wouldn’t be pulling too much. 

Everything was going well before Professor Trelawney went stiff as a board and spoke in a grating rasp. “You …Have…Failed… Old…Man… Chaos… Has won… The time of… The Freaks… Has Begun.” Then she collapsed and began to scream. 

**IF IT ISNT IT SHOULD BE**

Across the continent from when the divination professor began screaming a young blonde girl was watching the thread of fate. Generations ago a guise had been put on her mother’s line to make them the guardians of two potential futures. Now it was growing close to find out if the world would be plunged into darkness or lifted into the light. Would their savior be crushed or supported in his hour of need. Then with an almost audible snap both the futures vanished and knocked the girl back. 

Sitting up the girl breathed deeply for the first time in her life. She jumped up and ran to her father, throwing herself at him in a hug. 

“Luna?” 

“Father, we’re free. The guise of Ravenclaw is gone.” 

“Gone? How? What does it mean?” 

Luna Lovegood was nearly giddy, “It means that the futures I was protecting are no longer reachable. I can’t protect what can’t exist.” She laughed, loud and unrestrained. 

**AND NOW FOR THE BAD NEWS**

Over the hill from the Lovegoods a little redhead was learning that without her brother there the uncle that lived in their attic was perfectly willing to find a…substitute. 


End file.
